It took forever for him to access a dream. Rosemarie was obviously not asleep. Finally Belikov must have decided to take a nap, because suddenly Adrian fell into a void, emerging on a snow covered rooftop. Glancing around he wondered what he'd missed. Belikov and Rose were sitting side by side on some kind of metal box, staring up into the bright morning sky. Rose began to speak, her sweet voice tinged with sadness. Her words froze him in place.

"You should take it."

Adrian stared at her, stunned. He knew instantly what she was talking about, and it filled him with remorse. She was so unselfish… so forgiving.

Belikov visibly flinched. "What?"

"Tasha's offer. You should take her up on it. It's a really great chance." Her face was a mask, not displaying the emotions he knew she was feeling. His gaze flicked to her aura, and he immediately winced. The thought tormented her, but she truly wanted the man to be happy.

"I never expected to hear you say anything like that," the Russian's voice was tight, his aura filled with dismay and sorrow. He was probably remembering Adrian's harsh words and wondering if Rose was tired of him. "Especially after—"

"What a bitch I've been? Yeah." She wrapped his coat around her body, her head dropping down to nuzzle against the collar. He heard her take a deep breath and knew she was drawing in the scent of the man she loved, committing it to memory so she could remember it when he left her. "Well. Like I said, I don't want to fight anymore. I don't want us to hate each other. And…well …" Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment, as if she were fighting back tears. "No matter how I feel about us … I want you to be happy."

Silence filled the air, and it was definitely not a comfortable one. Adrian watched the golden glow around them, writhing and merging, and he noted how even in this most solemn moment, they still leaned towards each other, each one yearning for the others touch.

Belikov reached over, putting his arm around her, pulling her towards him. She rested her head against his chest, exhaling a small, sad sigh. At the moment they touched, their auras flared, shining so brightly it hurt Adrian's eyes. The darkness that surrounded her was almost completely diminished. Both were laced with a heart wrenching sorrow. It was almost enough to deter him from his decision to win her. Almost enough to make him give her up entirely.

"Roza," Belikov said, his voice heavy with emotion.

She pulled away, handing Dimitri his coat as she stood up. He studied her, his curiosity evident.

"Where you going?" he asked.

"To break someone's heart," She replied. She gazed at him for a minute longer, then walked past Adrian, heading inside.

Belikov stared after her, and Adrian was shocked to see a single tear slide down the Russian's tanned cheek. The guardian closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling deeply as he tried to control his emotions. Adrian pulled himself out of the dream, not wanting to wait around and see if the other man broke down entirely.

The instant he was back on his bed, his mind once more fully conscious, he grabbed a vodka bottle, chugging it down as quickly as possible. He had overexerted his powers over the last two days, and the depression was slamming into him, awakened by the emotions he had witnessed on the roof. The only cure was as much alcohol as possible. He'd drink until he blacked out, then would wake up and drink some more. Anything to drown out the misery he felt seeping into every fiber of his being.

His head was throbbing, a constant, pounding rhythm that matched the beat of his heart. Good God, it was so loud that it almost sounded like—

Shit.

For the second damned day in a row, someone was knocking on his door. No—knocking was far too polite a term for what was happening. It sounded like someone was attacking his door with a sledge hammer. What the fuck? When had his room become Grand Central Station?

He glared at the mound of pillows he was cuddling—he vaguely remembered christening them Rose at some point during the night—and forced himself out of bed. He tottered for a minute, almost losing his balance, then shuffled out of the bedroom towards the door.

"Hold on a fucking minute!" His voice was raspy, and he cleared his throat, wincing in pain at how raw it felt. Throwing open the door, he glared evilly at the man on the other side.

"Jesus Christ, Belikov. What the hell do you want?"

"Is Rose here?" His accent was thick and his aura was all over the place. The man was in a panic.

Adrian peered at him, not fully comprehending the question. He still had a bit too much Iordanov Vodka in his system to be playing twenty questions. "Why would you think Rose was here?"

"Let me in, Ivashkov. Natasha Ozera said she saw Rose entering this room last night." Belikov's voice was a low, threatening growl.

He laughed—he couldn't help himself. "And you were stupid enough to believe her? I haven't seen Rose since her mother dragged her out of the banquet." No need to mention he'd been spying on the other man's dreams. Not with the mood he was in.

Belikov shoved him aside, striding towards the bedroom. When the tall man uttered 'fuck' in Russian, Adrian laughed again, knowing what he'd seen. With the pillows mounded and covered, it would look like someone was in the bed. Collapsing to the floor, he held his side, wincing at the sudden pain brought on by his laughter. Shit. He wondered if his liver was exploding.

"Where is she?" Belikov demanded.

"Are you deaf? Do I need to say it in Russian? I don't know. Ask Lissa."

"The Princess has not seen her since last night." The worry in his voice was evident, helping to sober Adrian up—slightly.

"What?"

"She. Is. Missing." Dimitri spoke slowly, emphasizing each word.

"Fuck. What can I do—"

"Nothing." The Russian was out the door. "I am sorry to have woken you."

"Belikov!" Adrian leaned out the doorway, shouting after the retreating figure. The other man didn't even acknowledge that he'd heard. His little dhampire was missing, and he was still too drunk to try and find her. He said a quick prayer that it was a false alarm and dialed room service. He was going to need coffee. Lots of it.

Three pots of coffee later and he was sober enough to attempt a spirit dream. His first attempt was a dismal failure. So were the next eight. On his tenth attempt he found himself walking along a warm sandy beach, with the Pacific Ocean expanding into the horizon. Just ahead of him he saw the most beautiful sight imaginable. Rose.

"Little dhampire. It's about time."

She turned around, her expression one of pure surprise.

"Still got your protection," he added with a smirk.

She frowned for a moment before responding. "And you're in the sun again, so I suppose it's your dream."

"It's our dream."

She looked confused. "How can two people share a dream?"

"People share dreams all the time, Rose."

Frowning, she studied him for a moment. "I need to know what you mean. About there being darkness around me. What does it mean?"

"Honestly, I don't know. Everyone has light around them, except for you. You have shadows. You take them from Lissa."

"I don't understand."

"I can't get into it right now," he said. "That's not why I'm here."

"You're here for a reason?" She asked, still frowning. "You aren't just…here to be here?"

He stepped forward and grabbed her hand, forcing her to look up at him. All amusement was gone. He was dead serious. "Where are you?"

"Here," she replied, obviously puzzled. "Just like you."

Adrian shook his head. "No, that's not what I mean. In the real world. Where are you?"

The beach suddenly blurred, like film gone out of focus. He was losing her. Shit.

"In a basement …" She said slowly. Alarm filled her voice. "Oh God, Adrian. You've got to help Mia and Christian. I can't—"

Adrian's grip tightened. "Where?" The world shimmered again, and this time it didn't refocus. He swore. "Where are you, Rose?"

The world began to disintegrate. Rose began to disintegrate.

"A basement. In a house. In—"

She was gone. He returned to himself, cursing a blue streak. So close! He had been so close to finding out what they needed. Lighting a cigarette, he began to pace. There had to be some way to find out—some way to locate her. He dropped the smoke in the ashtray, heading for the door. Maybe Lissa could think of something useful. He was out of ideas.